


37 Deans

by MistressPandora



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Aftercare, All the warnings, Anal Sex, BDSM, Blow Jobs, I probably missing something, Let's all get washed up for the orgy, M/M, Moresomes, Multi, Rope Bondage, Selfcest, So much smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Spoon-feeding cum, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-31
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 22:03:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13533456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora
Summary: Thirty-seven Deans and Castiel must bring them all to orgasm. Every. Last. One.





	37 Deans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hollyblue2](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollyblue2/gifts).



> The prompt was something along the lines of: "There are 37 Deans, but Castiel has to fuck them instead of kill them." This is for you, EnvyDean.

Naomi was never one for traditional tactics. She’d sensed the lust in Castiel and wanted it out of his system. That was the only explanation for his current predicament.

Thirty-seven Deans. He’d counted them swiftly. Six rows of six and one front and center, all stripped almost bare, the only difference between them in the cut and color of the panties they’re wearing. Some are clad in shades of pink, others black, a few greens, and the one in front wears a deep red thong made of fine lace. All sport impressive erections crammed into--or peeking out of--the panties, all standing at some version of parade rest, bare feet shoulder-width apart and hands behind their backs. A huge, plushly-made four-poster bed waits in front of the group, to Castiel’s right. 

Thirty-seven Deans and Castiel must bring them all to orgasm. Every. Last. One.

Castiel shrugs out of his trench coat and lets it fall without ceremony to the concrete floor. He’s staring at Dean Number One, the one standing apart from the group and the bastard winks at Castiel, open mouthed and exaggerated. Castiel swallows hard, his cock twitching and erect in the confines of his slacks. As he undresses, his eyes float over the vast room filled with his deepest, darkest fantasies: all the Dean he can take and then some. 

He sinks to his knees in front of Dean One, and licks the head of the cock peeping from the top of the red thong. Dean One moans and fists Castiel’s hair. Castiel wraps his fingers around the straps of the thong and pulls sharply, ripping the thin material in two. He takes all of that gorgeous cock into his mouth and sucks hard, years of want and need fueling the motion. He swirls his tongue around the underside of Dean One’s cock and he thrusts into Castiel’s mouth. He fucks his own fist because why the hell not. He’s sucking Dean’s cock like it’s going out of style and thirty-six identically sexy men are watching with hunger in their eyes. Dean One’s rhythm stutters and then Castiel is swallowing down come, hot and thick on his tongue. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean One says, and he’s gone without a trace except for the ruined panties on the floor.

If Castiel keeps up at this pace he’ll be here for days. The thought thrills him and he can’t help the predatory grin that spreads his lips as he points to Deans Two and Three and beckons them to the bed. Castiel lays on his back on the bed, head hanging off the edge. Dean Two strips off his green boy shorts and fucks his throat while Dean Three crawls on the bed between Castiel’s legs and sucks his cock into his mouth. When Dean Two comes it throws Castiel over the edge and he’s drinking down Dean Two’s pleasure even as he spills his own into Dean Three’s mouth. “Fuck, Cas,” Dean Two says and then he’s gone.

Castiel sits up and flips Dean Three onto his stomach. A bottle of lube appears at his side and he slicks up his cock and plunges into Dean Three’s tight hole. Dean Three cries out and begs for more as Dean Four climbs onto the bed behind Castiel and pushes the angel down over Dean Three’s back, skin sliding against heated skin. Dean Four’s thick cock presses into Castiel’s entrance, slow but insistent and Castiel moans loudly. It’s too much and just enough with Dean around and inside him and he’s at Dean Four’s mercy, the clone immediately setting a brutal pace. Castiel wraps his arms around Dean Three’s torso, clings to him for dear life as Dean Four pounds and pounds and pounds. It punches Castiel’s breath out of him in a staccato and all he can do his hang on for the ride. Then they’re all coming, all together, and Castiel is wrecked. There’s no way he can survive this for thirty-three more Deans. He’s gasping for breath and Deans Three and Four say, “Fuck, Cas,” in unison and then they’re gone and Castiel falls to the sticky mattress with a gasp.

Castiel flops onto his back to catch his breath but here comes Dean Five, nipping at Castiel’s lips, nipples, stomach, thighs as he crawls over him. Dean Five sinks onto Castiel’s still-slick cock with a sigh, facing away from him. Dean Six appears between Castiel’s legs and kisses Dean Five, hot and dirty, and pushes him back to almost laying on top of Castiel’s chest, skin ghosting over skin. Dean Six slicks up his cock and presses slowly into Dean Five and Dean Five cries out, a wordless shout as he’s doubly penetrated. Castiel is again at a Dean’s mercy as Dean Six slides almost all the way out of Dean Five and then slams back in, his cock rubbing against Castiel’s in a wonderful array of sensation. Dean Six leans forward and kisses Dean Five, searing and passionate and Castiel’s head falls back to the mattress with a groan. Oh these men.

Dean Seven joins the party, hovering over Castiel’s face and then shoves his cock into Castiel’s open mouth. Castiel hums around the thick cock, a vessel for the pleasure of the other three. Dean Five comes next, breathing, “Fuck, Cas,” and disappearing. Dean Six plunges his cock into Castiel’s ass and chases his own orgasm. It’s not a long trip for the clone and he mutters, “Fuck, Cas,” before he too disappears. Then Castiel is left with only Dean Seven in his mouth until he too comes down Castiel’s throat, says, “Fuck, Cas,” and disappears.

Castiel drags himself from the bed, thin rope appearing in one hand, a vibrator in the other. With deft hands, he slides the vibrator into Dean Eight’s ass, ties it in place, and walks away. 

Dean Nine strips out of his pink satin hipsters with lacy ruffles and leans over the bed, ass out. Dean Ten springs into action, slicking up his cock and fucking Dean Nine with reckless abandon. Not to be left out, Castiel renews the lube on his own cock and fucks Dean Ten from behind. With two utterances of “Fuck, Cas,” the clones are gone.

A pair of vibrators appear in Castiel’s hands, which he shoves into Deans Eleven and Twelve while he sinks to his knees and sucks off Dean Thirteen. Dean Fourteen lays on the floor under Castiel and sucks his cock while Dean Fifteen fucks Fourteen’s ass. Castiel moans around Thirteen’s heavy cock as Fourteen does positively wicked things with his tongue, all while fucking Deans Eleven and Twelve with the vibrators. As if the planets have aligned just right, they all come together and with several utterances of, “Fuck, Cas,” Castiel is left cold on the floor, gasping for breath. 

Dean Sixteen rides Castiel’s cock and thank Chuck angels don’t have refractory periods or this would literally take days. Dean Seventeen fucks Castiel’s ass while Eighteen thrusts into his mouth. Castiel can no longer tell what is sweat and what is come and he doesn’t care, can’t care. There’s not enough fucks left for him to give. 

Dean Nineteen runs his hands down Castiel’s chest and Castiel touches two fingers to his forehead. Nineteen says, “Fuck, Cas,” and disappears. Come is practically flowing like a river on the floor and off Castiel and he's only half done.

Castiel rides Dean Twenty’s cock just to switch things up. It’s a nice moment of intimacy in the chaos, just the two of them, and Castiel is so oversensitive that he comes untouched. Hot ropes of white paint Dean Twenty’s chest. Still gyrating his hips over the Dean beneath him, he leans over and laps up the come with this tongue. His vessel’s stomach is rebelling from all the come he’s drank in the last however-long-he’s-been-in-ecstasy but he touches his Grace and it settles again. Dean Twenty orgasms, a languid contortion of his beautiful face, green eyes burning into Castiel. He gasps for breath, mutters, “Fuck, Cas,” and Castiel is left alone on the bed.

He’s not alone for long. Deans Twenty-One and Twenty-Two are at his side in an instant, petting his hair, caressing his back and arms and calling him, “Such a good boy.” Soft silk rope slithers around his body and seconds, minutes, hours later Castiel is wrapped in beautiful pink shibari. The ropes twist and loop and knot perfectly and when he struggles in a brief moment of blind panic he realizes they’re perfectly knotted, not tightening at all. But the soft rope bites his arms, his stomach, and he’s immobilized, arms box-tied behind his back, ankles tied to thighs, torso decorated. Deans Twenty-One and Twenty-Two maneuver him onto his stomach. His knees are bent beneath him, the air cold on the come drying around his sloppy hole. One of the Deans licks his entrance, tongue darting in and out. Castiel moans and Dean Twenty-Three makes Castiel’s own tie into a gag, tying it around his head. The three Deans hover over him, muttering sweet things like “So beautiful,” and “Love you all tied up for us.” 

Castiel bites down on his tie, eyes rolling back in his head. His cheek is pressed into the mattress as the Dean who was rimming him pulls away and then the head of a thick cock is pressing into him, hard and fast. There’s no tenderness, just sensation, and Dean pounds into him. Castiel moans around the gag, the material already growing wet. His eyes finally focus on the wall behind the bed and as he looks up he notices glass he hadn’t seen before. A two-way mirror. Naomi is watching. Well, Castiel thinks in a flash of defiance, hopefully she’s getting some pointers on removing that stick from her ass. 

As if they can sense the rebellion in Castiel, three different hands come down hard on his ass, a triple blossom of stinging pain and it’s glorious. He groans deep in his throat, the noise rumbling out of him neither an apology nor a plea, but encouragement. More. He wants more. These three Deans will be the end of him in the most wonderful way possible. The Dean fucking him mutters, “Fuck, Cas,” and then Castiel is cold and empty.

But not for long; the next Dean takes his place, fucking him hard, fingertips bruising Castiel’s hips and he stares up at the two-way mirror. Before long this Dean too says, “Fuck, Cas,” and is gone. Castiel whimpers this time, the sound muffled and high-pitched and pitiful in his own ears. He was close to coming before the last Dean disappeared, and when the third one presses in, he coats the bedspread below him in his own pleasure. This Dean grabs onto the ropes connecting Castiel’s arms to his back and pulls until he’s kneeling. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoes in the expansive chamber, fourteen sets of eyes on them--fifteen if he counts Naomi--and Castiel comes again, just as Dean Twenty-Three shouts, “Fuck, Cas!” and disappears.

Castiel is vulnerable and alone on the bed. He struggles against his bonds, panicked tears welling in his eyes. Dean Twenty-Four comes to his side and cuts his ropes with a pair or safety shears, the metal cool and comforting against his heated skin. Once he’s free, Dean Twenty-Four pulls Castiel into his lap and presses a bottle of water to his lips. “Shh, Angel, it’s okay. Drink for me,” Dean whispers. And it’s all the tenderness and care he’s ever wanted and when the water is gone he kisses this Dean. It’s the first slide of his lips on lips since this whole wonderful nightmare started, and it’s the single most intimate thing he’s experienced yet. Dean Twenty-Four opens for Castiel and for just a moment this is  _ his _ Dean and he’s not Castiel, he’s just Cas. He clings to Dean, anchoring himself against the storm of emotion threatening to come pouring out of him. Dean wraps him in strong, bare arms, massaging Cas’s shoulders and the ache from the box tie dissolves into the bliss of  _ Dean is taking care of me _ . 

Dean kisses away Cas’s tears, peppering his face with gentle brushes of lips and utterances of “So good for me.” He lays Cas back on the pillows, gently, lovingly, and kisses down his rope-bitten chest. Dean straddles him and sinks onto Cas’s cock slowly and Cas moans. “Gonna take care of you,” Dean says as he begins to rock. It’s slow and sensual and beautiful and Cas sighs as the pleasure builds again, a coil of heat deep in his stomach. Then he’s coming and Dean is coming all over him and then, “Fuck, Cas.” And then Dean Twenty-Four is gone and Cas is Castiel again. 

He takes deep breaths and rolls off the bed with a groan, shoulders squared again. He beckons Deans Twenty-Five through Twenty-Seven over to the bed. Dean Twenty-Five lies on his back and Castiel straddles him, sinking onto his cock with a sigh. His hole is so loose it doesn’t even burn anymore. Dean Twenty-Six pushes on Castiel’s back until he is fully bent over Dean Twenty-Five, his sticky chest against the hard lines of Dean Twenty-Five’s body. Dean Twenty-Six rests a foot on either side of Castiel’s legs and, using his hand as a guide, slides his cock into Castiel too. The angel gasps. He’s never been so full. Then Dean Twenty-Seven slowly forces his cock in between Twenty-Five and Twenty-Six and Castiel cries out, coming instantly, the flow hot and slick between him and Dean Twenty-Five. Dean Twenty-Seven--or was it Twenty-Six? Castiel can’t tell, there are so many dicks inside of him--begins to piston his hips, slowly, deliberately and all the Deans under him, over him, behind him, inside him, they all moan and gasp. There’s an eerie echo of “Fuck, Cas,” and then he’s cold and empty again.

Castiel is shuddering, shivering, and Deans Twenty-Eight and Twenty-Nine drape arms around his shoulders, caressing him with hot hands, warming his sweaty skin. For the first time in his very long existence Castiel is sweating, drenched in perspiration and come and he can barely breathe. Then there’s the feeling of something cold and metallic in his ass. It’s flat but also somewhat rounded and familiar. Then Dean Twenty-Eight pulls Castiel’s back against his chest and Dean Twenty-Nine eases a spoon into Castiel’s mouth. His lips close around it and he tastes the bitter saltiness of come--Dean’s come--and he swallows it down greedily.

Dean Twenty-Eight closes his hand around Castiel’s cock and pumps it, Castiel weakly fucking into the fist. He’s so oversensitized that he comes in a matter of minutes, all over Dean Twenty-Nine’s chest. Dean Twenty-Nine scoops up the come with his spoon and feeds it to Castiel. He drinks it down and somewhere in his fucked-out, hazy mind, he thinks of the subtle difference in taste, that Dean is a little sweeter. Then Dean Twenty-Eight shoves Castiel onto all fours and fucks his ass, while Dean Twenty-Nine grabs him by the hair and fucks his face. Dean Twenty-Nine thrusts so deep that Castiel gags, tears welling in his eyes. Dean Twenty-Eight thrusts hard and Dean Twenty-Nine’s cock is choking him and it’s too much and not enough and he just moans, merely a vessel for the Deans’ pleasure. Then Dean Twenty-Eight grips Castiel’s already bruised hips and breathes, “Fuck, Cas.” Castiel nearly falls backward but Dean Twenty-Nine grips his hair tight and thrusts down his throat. Castiel moans, pants, begs wordlessly for more and then the come is pouring down his throat. “Fuck, Cas.”

Castiel looks at the remaining eight Deans. They’ve gathered in groups of two or three, making out with each other, panties all growing wet with pre-come. Dean Thirty is on his knees in front of Dean Thirty-One sucking his cock with enthusiastic abandon. Dean Thirty-One’s eyes roll back in his head and he’s moaning as he fucks his twin’s mouth. Castiel groans, hungry at the sight. He’s gasping for breath and there’s come smeared or dripping out of every orifice but he doesn’t care. He’s no longer a wavelength of celestial intent crammed into a vessel, he is sensation and lust and want and he  _ must have those two Deans right now _ . 

A length of pink rope appears in Castiel’s hands and he stalks over to Deans Thirty and Thirty-One. He snatches Dean Thirty-One’s hands out of Dean Thirty’s hair and binds his wrists together with the rope. He grabs Dean Thirty’s ear and tugs him to his feet, leading them both to the bed. Castiel ties Dean Thirty-One’s bound wrists to the bedpost. A leather paddle appears on the bed and Castiel snatches it up and brings it down hard onto Dean Thirty-One’s presented ass. Dean Thirty-One grunts and begs for more. Castiel is happy to oblige, watching the freckled flesh turn red. Stepping back, Castiel just drinks in the sight of Dean, tied up, hard, panting, begging for another paddling. So beautiful like this. He resolves in that moment to do exactly that to the real Dean back on Earth. Someday.

Dean Thirty, apparently feeling left out, wraps his arms around Castiel’s neck, an impish grin on his face. “What about me?” he whines, lower lip sticking out in a pout. Castiel reaches up to take his hands, spins Dean Thirty around, and ties his wrists around Dean Thirty-One’s waist. 

“Fuck him,” Castiel orders and Dean Thirty eagerly obeys, plunging into Dean Thirty-One’s entrance. Dean Thirty-One moans loudly and Dean Thirty pulls him close, sweaty back to glistening chest. Castiel positions himself behind Dean Thirty and thrusts his leaking cock into the tight heat in front of him. His cock is a little dry and Dean Thirty winces at first, then relaxes and lays his head on Dean Thirty-One’s shoulder.

Castiel reaches around and guides Dean Thirty’s bound hands to Dean Thirty-One’s cock. Castiel’s hands find Dean Thirty-One’s hips and he grips them tightly, squeezing Dean Thirty between them. There’s so much  _ Dean _ and Castiel finds the energy to set a brutal pace fucking Dean Thirty. All three men moan and groan and huff expelled breaths with each thrust. Then Castiel is falling over the edge, filling Dean Thirty with his ecstasy, come dripping from his hole. Both Deans cry out, “Fuck, Cas!” and then all that’s left is empty rope and torn panties. In fact, there’s panties all over the floor in varying stages of destruction, Castiel notices as he looks around. 

Dean Thirty-Two is the only Dean standing alone, still at parade rest, staring at Castiel with lust-blown eyes. Castiel crooks a finger at him and he closes the distance to the bed with a smirk. They take it slow, all soft sighs and sweet kisses and nips at jaws, shoulders. Castiel is on his back on the bed and Dean Thirty-Two hovers over him, languidly thrusting in and out of Castiel’s stretched hole. “Fuck, Cas,” and then nothing.

Dean Thirty-Three waits patiently at the foot of the bed, climbing up when Castiel looks up at him. Castiel rolls so he’s on top of Dean and slicks up his cock with the lube that’s reappeared, pushing into Dean Thirty-Three to the hilt. Dean moans loudly and Castiel shuts him up with a rough kiss, all teeth and tongue and dominance. Pulling away, Castiel grabs Dean Thirty-Three by the hair and turns his face, tilting his head back. He sinks his teeth into the exposed flesh at the junction of his neck until Dean Thirty-Three cries out and Castiel tastes copper. It’s intoxicating and his thrusts stutter until Castiel fills Dean Thirty-Three. “Fuck, Cas,” and all that’s left is the taste of blood.

Arms trembling, Castiel flops onto his back on the bed. Dean Thirty-Four crawls over him in the sixty-nine position and they suck each other’s cocks, Castiel doing little more than letting Dean fuck his face. Dean Thirty-Five appears between Castiel’s legs and, lifting the angel’s knees, thrusts his cock into Castiel’s dripping hole. Dean Thirty-Six squats over Dean Thirty-Four and fucks his ass and Castiel is helpless to do anything but watch and moan and drool around the thick cock in his mouth. He cries out as he comes into Dean Thirty-Four’s mouth, and then three echoes of, “Fuck, Cas,” and all that’s left is a buzzing sound from somewhere beyond Castiel’s feet.

The Final Dean is standing there holding a vibrator, which he slides into Castiel’s stretched hole. But this is the last Dean and Castiel is nearly weeping with exhaustion and joy and regret and he can’t stand to watch another Dean disappear into thin air. He thinks of the Band-aid analogy he once heard the real Dean use. He puts two fingers to the Final Dean’s forehead, “Fuck, Cas,” and then he’s alone in the chamber, silent except for the buzzing in his ass. He reaches down and removes the vibrator, switching it off and throwing it against a far wall so that his shatters into a dozen pieces. 

Castiel considers touching his Grace, considers cleaning himself. Considers dressing. Instead, he walks to the wall with the two-way mirror and punches the glass. It takes a couple tries but he gets through. Naomi is there looking rather surprised. He manifests his angel blade and stabs the bitch through the heart. Her eyes flash blue and she falls to the floor, dead. 

Now Castiel can get dressed.


End file.
